The most recommended books on Greece

What would you do if you found yourself in a new relationship, pregnant, and with nowhere to turn?

Vikky Hall, the protagonist in this story, has chosen to cut herself off from the mother she feels couldn’t care less, and winds up living with her boyfriend’s family while raising their son. As a result of toxic relationships and manipulation which bring on depression and self-doubt, Vikky sees no way out. She leaves their home—and her toddler son—behind.

This is a magnificently crafted novel exploring relationships between parents and children, the insecurity and guilt that can often come with motherhood, found family, forgiveness, and new beginnings. I loved it for its realness in addressing hard topics and emotions, and most strikingly, for its heart.

This provocative book covers 250 years of European history. I find something to argue with on pretty much every page but I have to admire Offen’s ambition in this sweeping narrative extending across the nations of Europe from Finland to Greece, from Portugal to Poland.

I so admired this book that I wrote to Karen Offen asking her if she would read some of the chapters of my book, which she did, making helpful suggestions which improved it no end.

We are reminded on almost a daily basis of the plight of refugees in fragile boats that this sea can be cruel as well as kind. The present diaspora has its forerunners – in this book the great population exchange of 1923 that saw the displacement of two million people across the Mediterranean: Greeks living in the Ottoman Empire, Turks living in Greece. Bruce Clarke both explains the chain of events in the aftermath of the First World War and records the personal stories of those who were uprooted from the places they called home. They have a familiar resonance, the repeating patterns of memory and loss: ‘I remember the day they went away,’ recorded a Greek woman of her Muslim neighbours. ‘Some kissed the earth, some took bowls of soil with them. They were decent types; their menfolk used to attend our funerals, and we would exchange presents of… show more.

The Kapetanios put me on a course that I have expanded upon since 1980. 

It’s a close-up and dramatic account of the civil war that took place in Greece, beginning in the period of the Axis occupation, but continuing off and on in the post-WWII period to 1949. In 1980, I had wanted to travel to Greece but could not. The best I could do was find a good book on its modern history. 

I found The Kapetanios at People’s Books (now sadly defunct) in Milwaukee, WI. There are reasons to question its historical accuracy – normal for any history – but the book and its subject matter grabbed me and never let me go. I’d still recommend the book to anyone interested in that tragic, important, and avoidable conflict.

If Arnott’s approach makes it easier to understand and appreciate how Greek drama and theatre were part of a performance culture in classical Athens, Baldry’s widens that perception to the much broader social and political climate of ancient Greece, from the likely ‘invention’ of tragedy and comedy in Athens at the end of the 6th Century BCE, to their development throughout the Greek world over the next two centuries and survival to our own time.

The whole sense of this new art form, a synthesis of storytelling, poetry, music, and dance, which developed as a kind of living and moving sculpture, is a hard one to take in all at once.

What Baldry offers is a brief but clear introduction to the background of both tragedy and comedy for anyone whose awareness of the potential of plays and players only begins with Shakespeare. He is both readable and a reliable… show more.

The ancient Greeks were not only good at making serious art such as epics and tragedies, they were also good at making fun of them in literature and art.

In the realm of art, the most abundant source of humor is painted vases, which were manufactured mostly for the use of men at symposia, or drinking parties.

Greek mythology was a favorite subject of the vase painters, and Mitchell’s richly-illustrated study of humorous vases provides a fun and unusual window into ancient burlesque treatments of Greek myths and legends.  

I found it a true delight to read such a clever, gentle tale full of humour and life observations.

Mrs. Winterbottom and her husband have both retired, but while she’s keen to set off around the globe, he’s happy in the garden.

I really loved the way Nell shows us Mrs. Winterbottom’s irritation with her husband, at the same time as making it clear they love each other. It’s relatable and realistic, and every line’s a gentle gag.

I love this tale narrated by a young academic who teams up with an exuberant, older working man named Zorba, “a passionate lover of wine, women and song” ...and dance. The younger man is more of a staid introvert. They are in a village in Crete to develop a mine. Their interactions are both amusing and philosophical. This contrasts with one horrific event where the appalled narrator struggles to understand the village’s moral codes which conflict with his own. In the final scene as he comes out of his shell, he asks Zorba to teach him to dance.

This is one of my favorite all-time novels. Kazantzakis words are to be savored.

Every young man’s dream of living on a Greek island in the 60s before the tourist invasion ruined the idyll forever.

The antiquity, the sun, the resin-flavoured wine, the turquoise sea, and the sweetness of the islanders’ welcome is the background to a tale of mystery and magic, sexual promise and deadly intrigue.

This book changed my life. I went to the islands as soon as I could after reading The Magus, and sixty years later wish myself still there.

Yulia Ustinova is a scholar of ancient Greek religion whose work deserves wider recognition, not only in classics but in religious studies and even parapsychology.

Divine Mania is a follow-up to her equally recommended 2008 book, Caves and the Ancient Greek Mind: Descending Underground in the Search for Ultimate Truth. In both books, Ustinova takes seriously reports of mystical, out-of-body, and near-death experiences in the ancient Greek world.

Such descriptions are usually seen as purely literary, imaginative inventions that have no meaning beyond their own cultural contexts. But Ustinova acknowledges what the evidence itself tells us: that extraordinary experiences impact religious or spiritual beliefs.

The book has been incredibly valuable to my current project focusing on near-death experience in classical antiquity more broadly. Though solidly academic, it is written in an engaging, unpretentious style.